


Avengers: First Trial

by ElnaK



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don Blake!Thor, F/M, Gen, Hulk!Clint Barton, Like, Maria Hill in Tony's armors, Natasha was raised on Asgard, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Super Soldier Peggy Carter, everyone's a little ( a lot ) different, in character but with a different backstory, techno superspy Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-24 02:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElnaK/pseuds/ElnaK
Summary: Loki has the Tesseract and Nick Fury has no other choice than to form the Avengers for the first time. Sounds familiar?Well. It would be if Tony was Iron Man ( he isn't ) instead of just the Merchant of Death. If Natasha was the Black Widow, and not only the Widow. If Bruce Banner was the Hulk and not Clint Barton. If Maria Hill was a SHIELD agent and not working for Tony. If Thor hadn't spent the last three hundred years on Earth. If Steve was Captain America. If...If the world had gone had gone as it was supposed to, instead of this clusterfuck.





	1. An actual thing

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not saying right away how everything is different, but I think you can probably guess more than a few things just from this first chapter.  
> Basically this is me doing the whole movie ( starting just after Loki's arrival because it was the best moment to introduce the change ) while putting the characters in each other's place, but with their actual personality ( a bit altered because of their experience, but still mainly the same ), mostly.  
> I could get around to doing the whole MCU experience like that, if, you know, I actually get around to doing it.

Fury thought of the Avengers files once again, and couldn't keep himself from snarling – someone else would have sighed, probably, but he was Nick Fury, not someone else.

Images appeared in Fury's mind, from the various reports he had read about the individuals he was considering to bring in. Sights he has seen himself, conversations he had had when he had met them, if only for a short moment for some of them.

Images of a cybernetic prosthesis that went deep into the right arm of a man, as some kind of exoskeleton to replace the flesh, wires for the damaged nerves that had been torn away in a terrible fall, decades ago. _“If you'll excuse me, Director, but I get some viciously macabre hallucinations if I don't clear my blood every two days or so, and I tend to get unpleasant when that happens.”_. Water dripping slowly as SHIELD's scientists unfroze a symbol of WWII, her shield still in her hands after all these years. _“Asgard might be my home, Director Fury, but Earth is where I came to life, and do not be mistaken, for I will do anything necessary to protect it, no matter from whom, yourself included.”_. A tall and muscular man missing an eye, with thunder crackling at his fingers when the agents tried to keep him in a cell. _“The only reason I'm here, Fury, is because you cannot be worse than Ross, and because you've offered to take Banner in. But don't be mistaken: because I trust him doesn't mean I trust you yet.”_. Glints of red and gold in an otherwise black suit of high tech armor as the faceplate was taken of, revealing the hard-faced woman and her fortitude. _“I don't remember who I'm supposed to be, Director, but I do know what I'm supposed to do right now.”_. Skin turning to green, muscles doubling in volume, and the promise that should the man be pushed too far, the transformations would not stop here. _“The world might have changed in seventy years, Director, but I doubt it changed so much that no evil is left to face.”_ Entirely black tactical gear, unremarkable at first, but in fact very different from anything he had ever seen, hiding a blue light that literally dictated a life, on a man who could rival any of SHIELD's best agents as far as efficiency went, the world's intellectual elite when it came to a battle of brains, and Fury's own stubbornness. _“It is my brother you are talking about here, Nicholas Fury, and no one knows better than I what he is capable of.”_. Two dangerously sharp blades linked by an unbreakable chain, the seal of Asgard's protégés on both the handles, and promising a death without mercy to their enemies. _“He might not be a good man, Director Fury, but he's the one who will do anything to save the ones who deserve it the most, be it by damning his own soul. And for that I will never betray him.”_

It was just... plain weird. Like someone had taken the personality and powers of the world's mightiest heroes, and put the whole into a blender to get a very unreal remix.

Good thing, Fury guessed, that so far there hadn't been a need for the Avengers to become an actual thing. Just imagining Anthony Stark anywhere near SHIELD's digital files sent a shiver down his spine. And let's not talk about Steve Rogers getting on the Helicarrier – some agent would probably try to shoot him dead on sight. Maria Hill was completely loyal to Stark, and that was a shame because Fury had been keeping an eye on the woman to recruit her before the whole Afghanistan thing. Getting a hold of Thor or Natasha Romanoff was just impossible, and the two were compromised when it came to dealing with Loki anyway...

At least Barton was already on SHIELD's payroll, and as for... Well.

Fury cringed.

There hadn't been a need for the Avengers to come together... until now.

Since, you know, Loki Laufeyson had just barged into a supersecure research facility through the Tesseract, brainwashed Dr. Selvig, Dr. Banner, and Maria Hill – who was here on behalf of her boss, since the Starks were the closest thing to experts on the matter of the Tesseract – and Fury, alongside Barton and Coulson, had barely escaped before they got themselves mind-controlled too.

He had no choice, apparently.

The fact that they had to bomb down their own facility in order to stay out of Loki's reach – which hadn't exactly worked the way Fury hoped it would, considering Loki wasn't dead in the rubble and had the Tesseract, but anyway, at least they were alive – was enough of a hint.

The world was in danger – when wasn't it? – and he needed to do something to make sure they still stood a chance in this oncoming war. SHIELD had noticed a few people who could be beneficial to any kind of superpowered situation, Fury had somehow managed to kind of get on the good side of each of them – or at least, to not get on their bad side, which was always a win – and now it was time to try and make something of it.

You know, before the mad norsen god with a horned – Stark would probably say something about the word “horny” here, not “horned”, and that was only the least important reason why Fury was hesitant to call the man – helmet tried to enslave the Earth – or whatever he was actually planning to do.

Fury didn't wait a moment when the call reached the woman to whom he needed to speak about this.

“You are called back on duty, Miss Victory. Loki has the Tesseract, Erik Selvig, Bruce Banner and Maria Hill changed sides, and yes all their files are in your nightstand, as well as your potential teammates'. I'll contact you again.”

Fury snarled – no, no sighing allowed, like, ever, he's Nick Fury and Nick Fury didn't sigh – as he put the phone back in his pocket, before looking back inside the jeep – Loki and his newly appointed minions had disappeared in the sunset, with Stark's armor, no less, and wasn't that a huge problem? – which meant no one was actively trying to kill them right now. Which meant SHIELD could go back to actually dealing with the situation – Fury was aware that Loki might send Iron Mercy to clean up behind him, thank you very much, but he kind of hoped it wouldn't be the case right away. Like, it'd be good if they actually had the chance to start planning a solution before everyone got eradicated.

Was he getting a little pessimistic here, or was that only an impression?

Barton and Coulson were politely – scratch that, Coulson was politely looking at him, waiting for orders, while Barton alternated between keeping an eye out for any threat and boredly looking back at Fury.

The one-eyed man pinched his nose – nose-pinching was allowed, though sighing wasn't.

“Alright, what's the situation?”

Coulson checked something on his cellphone, his left-hand fingers drummed quietly on his walkie talkie for a moment, and eventually a mild-mannered answer came up.

“A few confirmed deaths, two dozens of confirmed survivors, and a lot of men still under the rubble.”

"Sound the general call. I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that brief case."

They were going to get the Tesseract back, they were going to get Loki in custody – or at least, to ship him back to Asgard – and they were not going to let the world come to an end.

Even if Fury had to call in the Freak Show for that to happen – that is, the ones he could actually get a hold of.

He looked grimly at Coulson.

“This is a level 7.”

A moment of silence.

“Coulson, you go and get Stark and Rogers. Tell them what happened to Hill, and that she cannot be trusted anymore. Barton, you come with me to the Helicarrier. We cannot let this go.”

There. The Avengers were going to become an actual thing.

Fury still wasn't convinced it was a good idea, but hey, who could say they had set up a former KGB agent and current genius, a formerly brainwashed supersoldier with half a metal arm, a green and unbreakable archer, a norse not-so-mythological god and a woman trained by Asgardians as if she was one of their own, together under the command of the legendary agent who had been the symbol of the Allied victory during WWII? Against another not-so-mythological god, two of the world's most renowned scientists, and the woman who used the Iron Mercy in combat?

If it didn't go like advised, no one could blame Fury for failing where someone else had done it – because, no, no one had ever done that before.

Yes, he wasn't convinced.

But he sure as hell was going to try making it work.

If only because they didn't have another choice against Loki.

 


	2. I can tell you about

Peggy Carter had been sleeping – let's be honest: Peggy Carter had been trying to sleep for three hours when her phone – and wasn't that weird how those small little things were actually portable phones? – rang.

She eyed the name on the screen – Director Fury – remembering quite well the man's words from a few days before. That basically, there wasn't one person who had his phone number registered under his actual name, he made sure of that, but he was willing to make an exception for her considering her... peculiar circumstances. AKA, you're probably weirded out by everything, Agent Carter, and maybe it would be for the best not to confuse you more than necessary.

It took her a few seconds to remember how to answer the call, though.

Before she could even utter a word, Fury's voice sounded from the device.

“ _You are called back on duty, Miss Victory. Loki has the Tesseract, Erik Selvig, Bruce Banner and Maria Hill changed sides, and yes all their files are in your nightstand, as well as your potential teammates'. I'll contact you again.”_

And he hung up.

Which Peggy wouldn't exactly call a problem, considering how she had been in the spying business before the serum and the seventy years in the ice, and people were just rude – and efficient – like that in that world. Except it had been only two weeks and a half since she had been retrieved from the ice, she had no idea who Loki was, she had barely gathered that the Tesseract apparently was the cube that had atomized the Red Skull from Fury's second debrief, and she wasn't totally sure if the two doctors mentioned were the older man and the shy man whom she had met last week while walking out of her third debrief.

So she might have stared helplessly at the phone for about thirty seconds after the call ended, just because she had no idea what else to do about it.

Soon enough she got herself back together, and decided that perhaps it didn't really matter whether or not all of this made sense, and what actually mattered was for her to take a look at those files SHIELD had apparently left in her nightstand – when, how, and why, by the way?

Peggy rose from her bed with too much energy for someone who had been supposed to be asleep – cold, cold, and the sound of melted ice dripping slowly along the frozen casket resounded in her ears, and she tried not to think about the first hours of waking up, when she hadn't been entirely unfrozen yet. At first she hadn't remembered the long, agonizing process of coming back to consciousness, only thinking she had fallen asleep and was now waking up as usual, but after the first week... Peggy wasn't even sure if it was her memories or her imagination at this point.

She barely registered the sound of her room's door opening up, too busy eyeing distrustfully the drawer where Fury had said she'd find the files.

The nightstand, of course, was empty.

Howard cleared his throat – and god, how old he sounded, when only three weeks ago he was barely past twenty, and Peggy couldn't ignore how time had left her behind, but not the people she used to know. Dugan, Dernier, Barnes, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Steve – no, not Steve – they were all dead, had been for a few years, if not a few decades when she had been taken out of the ice.

“Fury had me put a fake bottom in the drawer the moment I offered to take you in, if you're interested.”

How could she have not thought of that?

A few knocks on the wood and she heard it. There, now if she could just...

The false bottom suddenly went up, and Peggy was grateful she hadn't put anything inside the drawer, or she'd have probably gotten it in the face. She immediately recognized SHIELD's emblem on the folder that fit perfectly inside the drawer.

She looked at Howard, and barely repressed a wince as her eyes took in his old, tired face. Ninety-five years old. She could barely believe it.

Of course, she was happy that Howard had lived that long – considering how he had played with his life during the war, it hadn't been a granted outcome – and it was a good thing that he could still walk alone, that he didn't have dementia, and that he was overall healthy, but still... Peggy could never not notice how quiet his voice sounded, how white his hair had become, and the fact that he sometimes had trouble doing what he used to do easily in his lab – try keeping a Stark away from their labs, and they just annoyed you so much you eventually gave up.

“Thanks, Howard, but shouldn't you be sleeping?”

The – old – man gave her a look, and just went to sit on the bed next to her – a safe distance away, as they used to back when they were both young and Peggy had made it clear Howard wasn't her kind of guy, a statement to which Howard had simply laughed and asked if she'd rather be friends with him instead.

“I can tell you about the Tesseract, and I know a bit about these teammates of yours.”

Peggy considered telling him to go to bed, because he was old and frail and he needed the rest, and she was more than capable to comb though these files alone, thank you very much – but she knew how stubborn he could be, and it was true that while she could read the files alone, it'd probably be more interesting to do so with Howard's input.

So she just tried one last approach, more out of duty than true conviction.

“Your wife will try to kill me if you pull another all-nighter at your age.”

Howard snorted.

“Maria will kill me, not you, except I'll probably be asleep by the time she wakes up. I'm not exactly able to pull an all-nighter anymore, unlike someone else I know...”

He barely mumbled the last part under his breath, and Peggy had a feeling he wasn't talking about her this time. If Tony Stark was anything like his father, he was probably the subject of Howard's discontent – hypocrite, but then again, weren't all parents that way? She wouldn't know, though, because she had yet to meet the kid – who was, she belatedly realized, physically older than her, if not chronologically so.

“Alright then, oh founding member of SHIELD. Tell me what you know.”

Howard gave her a crooked smile – they had been speaking about starting an international secret agency back during the war, when neither of them could sleep and they wondered about the problems of the world, that they were more than aware wouldn't just all disappear with Hitler. They had been pondering the possibility, back then... And Howard had done it. Without her, but he had done it.

He explained to her what they had found out about the Tesseract – how he had found it searching for her, and his hope as it had been found, and his despair when he had realized the Valkyrie wasn't there with the Tesseract. He told her that SHIELD had been trying to harness its power for decades, and that the arc reactor he had come up with was based off it – Tony had perfectioned it only two years ago, and Howard was terribly proud of that too – that he had been the main scientist on the job until he had retired twenty years ago. That Tony had taken the lead after he had come back – Peggy wasn't sure what Howard meant by that, and from the look in her friend's eyes she knew not to ask for now – and had been working on it with SHIELD's n°1 scientist, Bruce Banner, and an astrophysicist named Erik Selvig. How Howard suspected that Fury had started working on using it for military purposes – something he could understand – but couldn't tell for sure because Tony had backed out of the main research after Afghanistan – another thing Peggy would have to ask about, but didn't think it was the right moment to.

Peggy Carter was a realistic woman, even if she occasionally tended to the idealistic side of things. She understood why SHIELD would want weapons powerful enough to take on anything, and she couldn't fault the logic behind doing it secretly. She only hoped it wouldn't go to hell, if only because she was also aware that problems existed on either sides of a solution.

“What about that team Fury wants me to be on?”

A smirk grew on Howard's lips, as if he had been waiting for that question all along. He had that look Peggy was used to see just before he showed someone his latest insane creation.

She wasn't sure whether or not that was a good omen.

Her hands went for the second part of the folder, and six – seven with her own – files fell on the bed. Two women and four men, with what looked like a futuristic robot on one of the women's file, and one of the men looking very much like Howard used to.

“Let me tell you about my greatest creation first, Peggy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Peggy Carter is "Captain America", except she's British and 40's, so not a captain. Meaning she's Miss Victory, because she was a symbol of hope ( and efficiency ) for the troops of the Allied forces. Might call her Captain or Agent Victory later on.  
> What happened is that the HYDRA agent who killed Erskine arrived a bit sooner, when Peggy was alone in the room with the serum and the pod, there was a bit of a struggle and he thought he had killed her, except she dragged herself to the pod and survived, becoming the first supersoldier ( Red Skull ignored ).  
> What that means for Steve, well...
> 
> Also, Howard and Maria are alive, and closer ( or not ) to Tony, because he was a bit busy with something else instead of making the serum again in 1991.


	3. Wrecking havoc as usual

Natasha's left leg swept under Fandral's knees, and the Asgardian went down brutally. He caught himself on his right arm and was soon getting back up, merely inconvenienced for a few seconds. Already spinning on herself, Natasha caught his foil's blade with her own right short sword as it went for her throat. Her second sword went for his heart, and barely missed his armor as he lept backwards.

The sound of the magical chain joining the woman's twin swords as it lost a few links with a red shimer of magic resonated harshly in Thor's ears, a few meters away from the fight, and he barely refrained a wince.

He hadn't been there when Natasha Romanoff, orphaned and without a life left to live, had slipped through one of the tears in between the realms at age five. He hadn't been on Asgard for almost three centuries when that had happened, when Sif had found the girl wandering alone, when Loki had decided to keep the girl, when the Allfather had agreed to let her live on Asgard – because Midgard would soon need an efficient protector, the old asgardian king could feel it in his bones, and Frigga had told him as much the very evening they had found her.

No, Thor hadn't been here for almost all of Natasha's life in this realm, but he could deduce enough from what he had seen of who she had become in these years. Sif had trained the young girl like no one else before her, but Natasha hadn't been the same kind of warrior as the armor-clad maiden. She had been more... shrewd, though honorable in her own way, and that had gotten Loki's attention. Where Sif had given the girl the skills, Loki had taught her a few magic tricks to be able to hold her own in a realm populated by people who would always be stronger, faster, sturdier than her.

Natasha was far from being a sorceress, but what she lacked in strenght – compared to an Asgardian, that is – she made up with bewitched sharpness in her blades, with a body armor that was both less extensive than the usual and more adapted to her fighting style, with spirit turned into strenght.

Where Sif was a knight and Loki a sorcerer, Natasha was a lethal weapon in midgardian form, honed with a hunch of magical poison.

It hadn't kept Loki from betraying her too, even if she had only been a collateral damage in his quest for power – but that didn't matter, now, did it, considering that Thor hadn't been able to save his brother fom the Void?

The Allfather's voice took him out of his musing, but Thor's valid eye never left Natasha's training for all that.

“You do realize she will probably choose to return to Midgard soon.”

Thor took a moment to answer, thinking back to his own time amongst the mortals – the deaths, the quick passage of time that didn't seem to affect him quite as much but never failed to affect them, the feelings and the memories, at odds with each others.

“I suppose she would be wise to go and live amongst people who share her life-span.”

Not that Natasha would live to see the difference – while all the Asgardians who had grown fond of her in the last two decades would, certainly, as she'd age and perish.

Then again, the reason she was now called the Widow...

Thor's father didn't comment on that part.

“She will leave, Thor. Soon. Your mother could see it in her eyes, and Frigga is never wrong. She might still come occasionally to visit, but she is going to choose Midgard over Asgard soon. Sif will be heartbroken, and many will be sad to see her leave, but you do no have to experience that. She isn't your friend yet, even if you appreciate her.”

Thor took a moment to remember the first time he had seen Natasha Romanoff, immediately recognizing the seal on her swords' handles, and the names of her protectors woven into it – Sif, and Loki. It had been New Mexico, he had been with Jane for two years already, and he had started slipping into that stage of denial where he could almost pretend he was just a Midgardian living his life without having to worry about Asgard's fate.

Then the Bifrost had opened, and of course Jane had wanted to know what it was about. The next thing he knew, a Midgardian protégée of Asgard, all red braids and lithe black and silver almor, twin swords in her back, was claiming to be here looking for Thor Odinson – yeah, him, exactly – since no Asgardian, not even Heimdall, had been able to find him in three hundred years, and she wasn't from Asgard – a loophole that Loki had probably not taken into account when condemning him to exile with his spell.

Ironic how, on top of that, it was Loki's own protégée who had found Loki's forcedly-estranged brother – admittedly, it had been pure luck that Thor had happened to be so close to the Bifrost when Natasha had come through, though he might not have seen it that way at the time.

When Thor turned back to look at his father, Odin was nowhere to be seen.

Thor frowned, and absolutely did not jump out of his skin when Natasha's voice startled him, way louder than it had been for him to hear from where she had been training with Fandral.

“It looks like something came up. A messenger from Heimdall just arrived, and the Allfather seems concerned...”

Thor took a moment to look at the young woman, before following her eyes to where Odin was now standing, a frown etched on his face. He had missed him sooner, not expecting him to have gone quite that far while Thor had been lost in his thoughts.

Only a minute later, Odin walked back to them, his mouth set in a hard line, and an expression that Thor and Natasha had learned to associate with thoughts of Loki on his face. Not quite so disapproving as it could have been, had Odin really not cared for his adopted son, laced with a tinge of worry and bitterness, but mostly angered to have been put in this particular situation by a brat who thought that because he had uncovered an unfortunate family secret, it meant he now knew everything about all the secrets of the universe.

“Is everything alright, Father?”

Of course it wasn't, but it was normal, expected even, to ask the question.

If Odin hadn't been Odin, Thor would have expected him to laugh bitterly right now.

Except Odin was the Allfather, and the Allfather did no such thing.

Instead, the king of Asgard spoke to him grimly.

“Loki seems to live, my son, for he has been sighted by Heimdall on Midgard. Wrecking havoc as usual. You should not have much of a difficulty finding him.”

Surprised, Thor squinted.

“You mean for me to leave again?”

Not that he was against the idea, but he hadn't expected for his parents to let him out of their sight for, oh, at least eight centuries. Not after what had happened.

Something flickered in Odin's eyes, something akin to hurt, but Thor wouldn't quite dare qualify it as such.

“It is so that you are the most suited to get your brother back on Asgard, and you do happen to know Midgard better than anyone else here. I am afraid we do not have much of a choice on the matter.”

Odin put a hand on his eldest son's left shoulder for a moment.

“Do come back this time too.”

He hesitated for a moment, his lone eye wandering on Thor's face – no doubt taking in Thor's own lack of an eye, remembering what had happened last time Thor hadn't made it home.

“You should go and claim Mjolnir back, before going to confront Loki on Midgard.”

Thor didn't answer, but the way he clenched his fists might have been enough of an answer anyway, and Odin didn't push. Instead, he simply watched, shaking his head, as his oldest son walked in the direction of the Bifrost, jaw clenched – and followed like a second shadow by the Midgardian woman, who had managed to get herself forgotten during the length of Thor and Odin's conversation.

Oh well. It's not like he could keep the girl from returning to Midgard – he didn't have that right, and she could be very crafty when it came to getting what she wanted regardless of anyone else's opinion on the matter. A wonder what Loki had seen in her, right?

The Allfather might have slightly smirked as he picked up on the conversation that was getting farther away from him each time the two youngsters took a step.

“What do you mean you are coming with me? I do not remember inviting you for the ride!”

“You can try to ground me, Odinson, but all you will accomplish is not seeing me follow after you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Natasha got a mostly asgardian upbringing.
> 
> And Thor's powers are more "Ragnarok" skills ( but not quite that level yet ) at this point, but Mjolnir is whole and for some reason he refuses to take it again ( not beause he's not worthy, because he hasn't actually tried picking it up since before his exile, so that's an unknown variable ).  
> Also, he's lost the arrogance a while back, and the confidence and optimism too. We'll have to work on that, I guess.


	4. It's up to us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more quotes from the movie than in the precedent chapters, especially since only one of the characters with an altered *cough* timeline is present.

The monitors kind of looked like they were glaring at him as Fury tried to make the WSC see reason – that is, that while the Avengers were not the most reliable solution ever, they were also the only one they had.

Besides, Stark at least would get involved the moment he learned about Loki and his more-than-probably nefarious plans. The man always acted like he didn't care, like the world could burn as long as he didn't burn with it, but whenever things actually happened, he stepped in.

Perhaps because he was more than aware that the world burning would happen without exception – him, the ones he cared for, everything would burn. And waiting until things actually affected him instead of reacting right away was always the best way to lose at least one thing. Stark was arrogant because he knew what he was worth – and he was worth a lot – not because he thought he was worth more than he actually was.

Also, he had a guilt complex a mile long – an intelligent, rather accurate guilt complex, but a guilt complex nonetheless – even if he wouldn't ever admit it.

Peggy Carter wouldn't let innocent people die either, and she already knew about the threat.

Rogers' martyr act wouldn't allow him to stand by.

Clint was a SHIELD agent, which meant he would be there anyway.

Those four, at least, would be here no matter what. It would be more effective to get them to work together, with SHIELD's support, than to deal with them working on their own and sneaking around SHIELD procedures.

Now if only the idiots could see that before Loki started a war...

" _This is out of line, Director. You're dealing with forces you can't control."_

Because they could, perhaps?

"You've ever been in a war, Councilman? In a firefight? Did you feel an overabundance of control?"

He'd tell them to try and do his job, just to see them fail spectacularly, if the consequences weren't of such importance. A good "I told you so" would feel great, though.

" _You're saying that this Asgard has declared war on our planet?"_

These people couldn't even listen and understand what he had said correctly, could they?

"Not Asgard. Loki."

Unless an ordinary citizen of the US could stand and declare war on another country – and in that case they were screwed, because the USA had a few very stupid, very belligerent people in its population, despite all the others – then no.

" _He can't be working alone. What about the other one? His brother."_

"Thor is certainly not on Loki's side, if you would be so kind as to consider the fact that his brother was the reason he was stranded on Earth for the last three centuries."

Was that sarcasm in his tone? Yes, that was sarcasm in his tone.

"Anyway, he's worlds away, we can't depend on him to help. It's up to us."

Which Fury didn't think would last long, but it didn't change the fact that they had to be ready to defend themselves without Thor's help. Just because, you know, Thor might not get there in time.

And it's not like the WSC would trust Thor enough to let him handle it all on his own. The bastards were all as untrusting as Fury was... except they lacked his aptitude to actually get shit done.

" _Which is why you should be focusing on phase 2, it was designed for exactly..."_

"Phase 2 isn't ready, our enemy is. We need a response team."

"  _The Avengers Initiative was shut down."_

Something about the potential members being slightly controversial, he hadn't forgotten, thank you very much. He might even have been the one putting the initiative on hold, but it's not like he's going to remind the WSC of that little fact right now.

"This isn't about The Avengers."

Why did it feel like they're accusing him of wanting to form a superpowered boy band, instead of wanting to prevent the world from burning? Why did everything turn into a freaking popularity contest with those people?

Oh, wait. He knew the answer to that one.

Because they were freaking useless.

" _We're running the world's greatest covert security network and you're gonna leave the fate of the human race to a handful of freaks."_

First of all, not all of them were freaks. Stark wasn't, Hill wasn't – and, okay, she had also disappeared after being brainwashed by Loki, but that wasn't his point – and the three who were were also either WWII heroes or a SHIELD agent – sure, one of them had also spent a few decades working for the enemy, but no one's perfect, especially people with no choice on the matter. But Fury doubted the councilmen wanted to hear that, so point n°2.

"I'm not leaving anything to anyone. We need a response team. These people may be isolated, unbalanced even, but I believe with the right push they can be exactly what we need."

Meaning, with him in charge. He had no intention of letting them run around as they wished, and wasn't that the exact point of putting them into a SHIELD-approved team?

" _You believe? Do I need to remind you what Anthony Stark used to be called, before he went back to his birth name? Do I need to remind you of the hundreds of lives Steve Rogers took before Stark found him, and, by his own words, 'un-brainwashed' him? What assurance do we have, for the matter, that Stark hasn't just switched over the control to himself? And we're only talking about two of them here, not even the whole lot of them."_

A door opened, and closed again, and Fury had to turn around to see Howard strolling in – Howard freaking Stark, right now, of all people. Which was, admittedly, a good thing, even if the older man could hardly be called impartial on the matter of his son.

" _What is Stark doing here, Director?"_

The anger in the councilman's voice was laced with a bit of panic, and Fury had to refrain from rolling his eyes, because 1) Howard Stark was ninety-five years old, and hardly going to kick anyone's ass, especially when said asses weren't even in the room – 2) as a founding member of SHIELD, Stark could do basically whatever he wanted inside their facilities, especially considering who had first wrote their security protocol – 3) Starks just didn't care whether or not you were someone important, they just told you whatever they had to say if they thought you were stupid.

Which was clearly what was going to happen here, and the reason why Fury and Howard were such good friends.

Howard blinked at the monitors with a "are you stupid?" look.

"Well I was minding my own business when I just sort of accidentally caught hold of this SHIELD signal frequency on which some people were saying very stupid things. So, out of worry for SHIELD's future, I followed the frequency back to its source, and here I am."

" _Wha...!"_

Before the councilman could say more / argue / demand an apology / be a general pain in the ass, Howard took a seat in a corner of the room, and made a point to look at his cellphone rather than at the people – or actually, their monitor – he had just successfully insulted.

"The thing dear old Fury..."

Nick Fury wasn't the one who was five years shy of one hundred, so he squinted at the very older man, a scowl on his face.

"... was trying to make you understand, while staying moderately diplomatic, is very simple. Luckily for me, I'm retired, which means I don't have to deal with your bullshit anymore, and I can say whatever the hell I want to. Loki's here, and he's not leaving until he gets what he wants, which is probably not a good thing for us. Us, as in, the whole planet, not just your little secret council. You need heavy hitters. You need people who know how to handle the unusual. You have these people, and yeah, sure, they're not perfect, but they live in this world too, and they're willing to defend it. So use them, and figure the rest out once the world has been saved. Because if you don't, there won't be anything left to be figured out."

" _Wars aren't won with a bunch of freaks, Mr. Stark."_

Howard's upper lip twitched in discontent, but he didn't comment on what his best friend and his son had just been called to his face.

"That's what they said about the supersoldiers too. And while I can't say that Peggy and Steve did all the work, because that's not true, they still did enough for it to matter."

 

 

 


	5. Black and white

Steve Rogers had been assaulting the punching bags of Stark Tower's private gym with all his might when the door opened, and a nondescript middle-aged white man entered. Steve ignored him at first, focused on beating the crap out of Tony's custom-made gym equipment for insanely strong supersoldiers, but the man didn't leave.

He was apparently waiting for Steve to finish, or at least to take a break.

The vet – he definitely deserved that designation, no matter what else he might deserve – packed a final punch that would have put someone out immediately, and stopped to look at the man.

Steve first thought it was one of Tony's employees, that the genius would have sent down to fetch him when Steve, too busy trying to slaughter some punching bags, had failed to answer his summons, but checking his Starkwatch told him there were no missed calls.

Besides, the man just had that "government employee" look about him – not that Tony didn't have a few former government employees amongst his people, because that's just what the man did, gathering unexpected people and making them work together. Penny in accounting – who was definitely not doing any accounting work last time Steve had seen her, unless accounting included breaking an asshole's jaw nowadays – was former CIA, the chief of security at the tower used to work for the NASA, and apparently Pepper Stark's assistant used to work for the IRS.

Steve was half-suspecting his friend to have started a semi-legal intelligence business inside SI, which Pepper was pretending not to see because she had enough problems to deal with being the CEO and Tony's wife. Which was totally possible, considering Tony's past, and Howard's history with making intelligence agencies out of scratch. The two Starks were eerily similar on some points of their personalities, even if not entirely the same person for all that.

That being said, the suit was giving it away. No one in SI would wear that unless they wanted to, and were willing to withstand the cheap government employee jokes.

Unwilling to speak up first, Steve just stared at the man, looking for hints, for anything that might serve him in assessing the potential troubles coming ahead – with his own past, Steve was always wondering when the other shoe'd drop, when Tony's protection, Tony's word wouldn't be enough. Assessing had never been his greatest skill – he wasn't quite bad at it, but certainly out of Tony's league, and even Tony had had some major mishaps – but it wasn't like his former... job... asked him to be good at that. Mostly it had been "go there, kill that guy, get back" and repeat.

"Agent Phil Coulson, of SHIELD, Captain."

Steve noted that Agent Coulson seemed torn between being completely undisturbed – default setting – and flustered – the reason, considering how he had just called him, seemed obvious.

It had been a long time since Steve had been called Captain, though.

He wasn't sure he deserved to be called that.

He must have made a face, because Agent Coulson seemed to catch on his line of thoughts.

"You know, it's really, it's just a... just a huge honor to meet you. I grew up with the tales of Miss Victory and Captain Rogers, of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and the Howling Commandos..."

There was a moment of silence, that Steve didn't want to break, as if it could somehow negate Agent Coulson's awe, as if just a moment more, and the agent would continue with hatred for the Winter Soldier, for all that Steve had become after the fall, what he had been until Tony had found him and put a stop to it.

"I mean, of course it's a tragedy, what happened after that, but it's not like it was your choice."

Not everyone thought so, and Steve wasn't sure he disagreed with them. Tony, of course, had told him basically the same thing as Agent Coulson, but Tony also thought he himself was evil incarnate and everything was his fault, which meant Tony had no say on the matter.

Pepper, Happy and Rhodey seemed to have come to the conclusion that it was better for everyone to just not talk about the issue, Maria was being incredibly pragmatic and told him nothing was ever black and white – by the way, he hadn't seen her for a few days now – and Howard was just too happy having him back amongst the officially livings to trully be impartial.

Agent Coulson cleared his throat, and Steve could see the concern in his eyes.

He didn't deserve concern.

"Are you, perhaps, having trouble sleeping?"

Steve glanced at the punching bags, wondering how long exactly he had been down here.

"I remember everything."

He didn't need to, and wouldn't, elaborate.

He had no idea what Agent Coulson made of it, because he could have been talking about the war, about the torture, about the progamming, about the missions, about the deaths.

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment, but eventually went with speaking out.

"From what I've heard, it's not exactly true."

When Tony had found him in 2001, Steve had still been the Winter Soldier – and Tony had still been... well. Things had happened – "cognitive recalibrating, Cap" – and after two years Tony had managed to simply erase the triggers from his mind, with the help of a wakandan scientist. Everything else was still here, but it was like Steve had never been programmed to begin with.

He couldn't say he missed it.

Changing the subject – something Steve was grateful for – Agent Coulson finally decided it was time to speak about why he was here to begin with. He handed him a folder, and Steve immediately recognized the picture that was on top of the various files. His right hand twitched, and the paper creased under what was left of his flesh – HYDRA scientists looking at his torn arm with interest, half of his flesh missing, and suddenly, with a scream, the missing parts being replaced with wires and metal, with...

"Hydra's secret weapon."

Agent Coulson gave him a sorry smile.

"Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for Peggy Carter. He thought that the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. Something we desperately need."

There was something else underneath that statement, but it wasn't what caught Steve's attention.

… Yet.

"Why aren't you seeing Tony about this?"

"Oh, I'm planning to go and crash his evening with Pepper right after I'm done talking to you, but it seemed like a waste to try and hack into his system, which is not something exactly easy, when I could get you to escort me up there."

Steve, for all his non-existent knowlegde when it came to modern technology, still knew that hacking Tony was possible, but hardly probable, and that, should SHIELD do that once, Tony would be more prepared for their specific angle of attack next time, which wasn't something they wanted.

"Also, Captain... I doubt you saw Howard Stark lately, because you would already know if it was the case. We have news about Peggy Carter."

Steve couldn't help the slight straightening of his spine.

"You've found her?"

He didn't want her body to stay lost forever, but at the same time it felt so definitive to finally know, perhaps even to see...

Agent Coulson's smile couldn't have been brighter, and soon Steve understood why.

"She's alive, Captain Rogers. She's alive, and has been awake for a bit longer than two weeks now. She's going to help with our current situation, too. If you want to see her again..."

Steve's heart almost gave him the impression it was going to break his ribcage, and he didn't freaking care. Peggy was alive, awake, and he was going to see her – it made sense, when you thought about it: Steve had survived fifty-eight years of on / off cryogenisation with the serum, and if Peggy hadn't been wounded when the Valkyrie had fallen, if she had just been frozen...

Agent Coulson was by the door again, a gentle smile playing on his lips, and obviously waiting – again – for him to follow.

"I hope your arm is up to date, Captain Rogers, because I'm afraid you'll need it soon enough. Now, I'd like to ensure Stark's cooperation as well, and your presence during that talk would prevent me from repeating myself."

Steve frowned, a thought hitting him suddenly.

"Shouldn't you want Maria to be with us too, then?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So:
> 
> While Peggy became Miss Victory, Steve also became an actual captain some time after the rescue of the 107th. They were the equal leaders of the Howling Commandos. And because there was already Miss Victory, "Captain America" never became a thing (Peggy didn't want to hear any of the showgirls nonsense, and people do what Peggy Carter tell them). It's just Captain Rogers.
> 
> Obviously Steve was the one to fall from the train ( what does it mean for Bucky, hum? )
> 
> Now there a bit of an age difference between Steve and Peggy, because he's been unfrozen for something like thirteen years in total ( 11 with Tony, and a few days here and there for missions before than ), but it's not insurmontable.
> 
> Coulson definitely ships Steggy.
> 
> The wakandan scientist isn't Shuri, if only because she wasn't even born back then ( I think, but anyway, a 1 year old wouldn't be cut for the job either ). For now it's just "a scientist".


	6. Compromise

Tony winced slightly as he had to rectify the movements of the remotely-controlled bot that was adjusting the latest addition to Stark Tower – namely, the arc reactor that would, probably, hopefully, not explode, and allow the building to be self-sustaining. It wasn't quite that yet, and if he ever wanted to make a remote-controlled suit of armor – he was thinking "Iron Man", red and gold because there was no point trying to be subtle with a flying armor – for himself, he'd have to make it better.

Normally he'd have asked Maria to use the Iron Mercy to do that, but he knew she didn't exactly have the scientific knowledge to do it, and anyway he had lent her to SHIELD for the week. Considering he couldn't don an armor himself – slight claustrophobia, that tended to happen after having been stuck in a damp coffin for four days – the bot was the next best thing.

Next to him, Pepper frowned at the readings, but Tony spared an eye and saw that everything was going well. It was simply, he supposed, that it wasn't quite as easy for her to be certain of that as it was for him, which was normal considering she wasn't an engineer – and yet she managed to somewhat keep up with him. God, he loved his wife.

"Stark Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy. Now light her up."

"I swear to you, Tony, if everything explode, I'm suing you."

"If everything explode, cupcake, we're both dead. Now, have a little faith in me, would you?"

She gave him a look, but still did as told. And... there!

See, perfect. Pepper started to say something about public awareness campaign, press, and zoning, which was hardly his first concern right now.

"Tomorrow we're going out to admire my work from outside."

What? He was curious to see how glorious Stark Tower was now that it was entirely finished.

Tony ordered the bot to return to the lab, and turned back to his wife, a big grin on his lips. Tomorrow they were going out, but it didn't mean they couldn't start celebrating right now.

"A question: how does it feel to be a genius?"

Pepper chuckled, more than aware of what he was doing here: both fishing for compliments, and acknowledging she had had her hand in the making of this latest technological marvel. In an absolutely subtle, apparently-self-obsessed way.

"Well, I really wouldn't know now, would I?"

"What do you mean? All this came from you."

"No. All this came from that."

She pointed at his arc reactor – and didn't comment on the fact he had a second reactor since a few weeks and hadn't really explained why that was necessary, which was why he loved her so much – and Tony knew that was as good as he would get her to say about how great he was.

"Give yourself some credit, please. Stark Tower is your baby. I mean, it has both our names on it, considering you're my wife. And I wouldn't have been able to handle the paperwork, the logistic, everything, without you. Give yourself... twelve percent of the credit."

To be honest he would have been able to handle it. But he didn't like it, and he didn't do it half as quickly as Pepper did. And it would have taken some of his time away – the second reactor, the upgrades for the Iron Mercy, the air boots... not done. Also, training. Not something he was willing to negotiate on. Training time was necessary. You never knew what could happen.

Pepper's upper lip twitched, obviously amused.

"Twelve percent?"

"An argument can be made for fifteen."

"Twelve percent? For my baby?"

"Well, you were the one who wanted the marriage contract to keep our assets separate. I'll tell you what. Next building's gonna say 'Potts' on the tower."

Pepper might have taken his name, but she was still very much Pepper Potts, on top of Pepper Stark, and making sure she knew he hadn't forgotten that was often a way to keep her happy.

Just as Tony got the champagne out however, the elevator opened, revealing Agent Coulson. Tony stopped grinning like a loon, and, champagne bottle still high up at the end of his arm, almost asked JARVIS why he hadn't been warned about that. Then he noticed Steve standing behind the agent, a slightly apologetic look on his face, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"Stark, we need to talk."

"Nope we don't."

Tony was already taking in everything he could about the agent, while still pretending he wasn't interested – not like that'd discourage Coulson, anyway – and he didn't like what he saw. The agent looked as cool as ever, but somehow there was something underneath, something he didn't like at all. Something that would probably jeopardize his dinner with Pepper.

About that.

"Phil! Come in. We're celebrating."

"Traitress. And, 'Phil'? His first name is Agent. By the way, that's the exact reason he can't stay."

Coulson ignored his attempt at ignoring him, and just put a file down on the nearest table. Tesseract. Oh god. What had these idiots done now?

...Had something happened to Maria?

Pepper, as quick as ever, looked at each of the men in the room, and asked:

"Is this about the Avengers? Which I know nothing about, of course."

"The Avengers Initiative was scrapped. And I was considered more of a threat than an asset, if I recall. Something about me having allegedly worked for the KGB, the FSK, and the FSB. Which is of course completely absurd."

No one commented on that, thank god.

"Oh, and apparently I'm volatile, self-obsessed, and I don't play well with others."

Pepper smirked, knowing full well that it was true... to an extent.

"This isn't about personality profiles anymore. Miss Hill was at the facility with the armor when Loki of Asgard, I'm sure you've already hacked that information out of our system –"

Tony gave a wide-eyed look of innocence. Steve's serious mask in the background cracked.

"– came through the Tesseract and started what looks like mind-control on Dr. Selvig and Dr. Banner, as well as on your employee. Which means he has access to the Iron Mercy, on top of his other plans that are more than likely a situation waiting to happen."

Pepper, sensing that despite Tony's apparent levity, her husband was actually starting to tense, took a moment to consider the situation, and decided this wasn't something she wanted, or needed, to be a part of. In fact, it would probably better if she wasn't around to distract Tony.

"I'm going to take the jet to D.C. tonight."

Tony almost looked like he wanted to argue, but did nothing of the sort. He had to realize that this way, at least, he wouldn't be – quite as – worried about something happening to her – even if, for now, nothing seemed to indicate what exactly this Loki wanted, or that he wouldn't attack D.C..

"Fine. But JARVIS keeps the line on stand-by, and you call me if anything happens."

She gave him a loving look, and made to leave. The boys had some confidential stuff to talk about, and a friend to rescue. Pepper really hoped Maria would be well at the end of this.

As soon as the elevator closed on his wife, Tony turned on the agent, and the only reason he wasn't grabbing the man by the thoat was because he had enough discipline to actually use his skills against the right people. That, and more than enough blood in his ledger not to want to add any more without a good reason.

"SHIELD didn't want me to come near their secret facilities, so I compromised and allowed Maria to go there in my stead, as the armor would later give me all the readings. I even agreed to disconnect the suit from JARVIS' main frame. And that's the reason why I didn't know something had happened. That's the reason I now can't lock the armor down, and a mind-controlled Maria Hill is running around with it, possibly about to do something gruesome with my tech on a delusional asgardian god's whim. I compromised because you didn't trust me, and here we are. So this time, you are going to compromise, because I don't trust you."

Coulson didn't seem particularly fazed, and simply nodded.

"So, about the Avengers Initiative..."

Going over the few files for the potential recruits – such as Natasha Romanoff, if, you know, they could actually get a hold of her – Tony had to admit there was potential here. Explosive potential.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... in the other notes, I gave some info about the altered past of the characters, and I'm going to do the same for Tony, but I'm not saying everything. Why? Because what I told you for the others is "public" knowledge ( not public, per se, but it's not necessarily kept a secret ). Tony, of course, has his secrets.
> 
> So, public knowledge:  
> Anthony E. Stark disappeared at eight years old, and Howard Stark shifted his obsession from searching for Miss Victory to searching for his son, in vain too. After 1994, a young Russian called Anton started doing business with SI, where he met Pepper Potts. Flirting ensued, but never became more, because Anton was mostly away. Then, because Pepper's awesome, she noticed the ressemblance, and in 2001 she basically told Anton she knew who he was.  
> One year later, Tony Stark reappeared and asked her hand. He had Steve Rogers with him, un-Winterized.  
> Things happened, Afghanistan, the arc reactor, Maria Hill was there too, and they both walked out, with Maria in the suit.


	7. The twenty-first century so far

“We're almost at the base, Miss Victory.”

Peggy nodded absent-mindedly at the pilot, who could probably not even see her from where he was sitting. Her thoughts were still on the files SHIELD had given her – and that Howard had explained on some points, because she wasn't exactly up-to-date with the modern world.

Things weren't exactly... insane now, because she felt it could still get weirder, but they surely had changed a lot.

Social things, to begin with; many things that used to be frowned upon were now possible, if not always appreciated. Technology, too, and Howard's enterprise represented the situation perfectly to her – on top of that, the current CEO was a woman, who had gotten there first because she was competent, even if she also happened to be Howard's daughter in law. Not something that would have happened back in the 40's. God knew Peggy had battled hard to become an agent.

Then there were the more... sensational things.

It had all started, she guessed, with Erskine. With the Red Skull, Steve, James Barnes and Peggy herself. From there, when people had seen that you could actually become more than human...

It had all started, too, when Asgard had rekindled their contact with Earth – by putting the too-arrogant first son on time-out, sure, but still, that's contact – and people had seen that there were other people who weren't even human to begin with out there.

It had all started, again, when Anthony Stark had created the Iron Mercy, and had trusted it into the hands of Maria Hill, when people had understood that they could do more even when they were only human.

Peggy remembered the files on Clint Barton, a former member of Delta Force with a past as a circus child, and how the man had been “volunteered” by a general into an experiment to reproduce the supersoldier serum – meaning, Barton hadn't been told everything, and the scientist who had been doing the experiment hadn't been told that Barton didn't exactly know what he was signing up for. If he had known, Barton would certainly not have agreed to that, considering he had a wife, a son – a family who was safe, now, only because the general had faced some very grave accusations, and SHIELD was ensuring their protection. She remembered how Thaddeus Ross had eventually forced both Barton's and Banner's hands to conduct the experiment, when the secrets had been revealed.

What it had cost the general, when everything didn't go his way.

What it had cost to more than a few dozens of people, when Ross' obsession had brought the Hulk and the Abomination against each other in the middle of Harlem.

Apparently Barton and Banner had been on the run for a while in between the first incident and Harlem, and the scientist had managed to stabilize the Hulk during that time... up to a point. A point that, of course, Thaddeus Ross had done his utmost to reach and overstep, causing the destruction of several blocks of Harlem.

Peggy closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

There was no point pretending she wasn't avoiding thinking about the other file by concentrating on the Hulk – that file, yes, the one that was deeply important to her, that name she did know, and the picture she hadn't recognized right away, not with the mask that ate away the lower part of his face, not with the scar on his right temple, not with the green and red that was visible inside – not around, not even a complete prosthesis, but inside – his right arm, where the cold and the wounds had butchered his flesh, and where HYDRA had reconstructed a part of him, without getting rid of what was still viable.

After what they had done to Barnes – who had seemingly disappeared from the face of the Earth right after the end of the war – HYDRA had had the gall to take Steve too.

She couldn't – no, whenever she closed her eyes, it was all she could see, now that she had seen the picture, now that she had linked it to a name, to a memory – Peggy couldn't forget the last bright smile Steve had given her, barely an hour before falling down the train.

And then it would be replaced by the picture in his file – not the civilian picture, in which the arm was mostly hidden by clothing, but the active picture, with him in combat gear. The mask, the scar, the prosthesis, and, more than all, the look in his eyes.

Steve had always been stubborn and borderline righteous – which was a good character trait to have, and yet again, wasn't – and Peggy could see, even in that picture, that no, he wasn't going to let the past prevent him from acting in the present. She didn't doubt he was completely aware he wasn't to blame.

And yet.

Even knowing it, even aggreeing with it, even believing it, it wouldn't erase the memories, the pain, the torture, the orders, the deaths.

Peggy didn't know what else to think about that, for now.

She'd probably know when they'd see each other again.

Soon.

Her grip strengthened on the shield, and the quinjet hit the... ground? It didn't sound like a normal landing runway. There was something...

The plane opened up, and Peggy was met with the sight of Clint Barton coming to greet her, probably. The man looked exactly like his active picture, with a slightly purple outfit that seemed resistant enough, and elastic enough, to take a semi-hulk-out. Not a full-on one, of course.

He also had a quiver and an arc on his back. Uh. Peggy had been almost certain she had read that one wrong while going over his file, and Howard had refused to comment, a grin on his face that should definitely have told her it wasn't the case. She was losing her edge.

She'd have to take care of that, or else she would never know what was actually a thing and what was just people “trolling” her in this future she was apparently a part of now.

Howard had a thing with “trolling” people, whenever he wasnt in his all-serious-all-business-the-end-of-the-world-is-near mood. She definitely needed to up her game.

“Agent Carter.”

Not letting her confusion show, Peggy responded in kind.

“Agent Barton.”

The man's face was serious, but she noticed a spark in his eyes, as if he was amused by the whole thing but didn't want to appear unprofessional – yet. For all she knew, he'd be much more open as soon as they'd get to know each other a bit more.

“How do you like the twenty-first century so far?”

Barton led her out of the quinjet, and onto a landing platform. Peggy could see the sea further away, and she thought they had to be on an aircraft carrier – those already existed back during WWII, even if she had to admit there was a distinct difference in size.

“I can't really say, Agent Barton. I haven't been out much, since they defrosted me.”

“Call me Clint, if you don't mind. We're going to work closely together, if the Avengers Initiative lives beyond the latest crisis, and I'm not exactly comfortable being called 'Agent'.”

Barton presented her his hand to shake.

Peggy hesitated a moment.

There had been a reason she used to insist on being called “Agent Carter”. Back then, back when her life had still been relatively normal, she had needed to assert her position while confronted with a male top brass, most of which were inherently convinced that women were... inferior. At least on most points, and especially when it came to having a professional carreer. Not necessarily because they were bad people, but because that was how people thought back then. Because that was what they were taught.

She had insisted, because those who refused to call her by her position usually did so to dismiss her, or because they simply didn't realize she actually was an agent, and it wasn't just a nice word to make her feel good about herself.

But here... She wasn't in that time anymore.

And Barton had offered his name first, as a sign of equality, and because they were going to work together. He had, moreover, started by calling her as she'd have wanted to be called if she had been asked beforehand. “Agent Carter.” She supposed she could give this era a chance, and try it another way, at least with the people who were being pleasant.

“Then call me Peggy, please.”

And, if Barton ever proved himself to not deserve her respect, she could always take it back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, differences: Steve might be the Winter Soldier, but that doesn't mean his gear and everything is exactly like Bucky's. First of all, it's not the same arm, and second, he didn't completely lose his arm.  
> They still messed him up a lot.
> 
> Also, Clint first joined the Army, which is how he ended up in Ross' clutch.


	8. A greater weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case this chapter isn't clear enough for you to get my point of view on Loki:  
> \- he's "not that bad" but still a villain  
> \- he wasn't mind-controlled in the movie, even if he was kind of afraid of Thanos and probably had to bargain with him to save his own life, like, by offering the destruction of the Earth ( blue eyes what? MCU Loki has blue eyes anyway )  
> \- people argue that he wasn't trying really hard in Avengers 1 and so he probably wasn't doing it off his own accord. I call bullshit: like Tony, he's very intelligent and all, but he's a freaking diva, and unlike Tony he's more likely to blame anyone but himself for his own failures. He's also terribly certain of his own superiority, and definitely underestimated the Avengers and Earth, which is why he didn't try "harder": because he didn't think enough of them to even try. And it cost him everything.  
> \- about that, and the difference in planning with Thor 1: I'm almost convinced that Thor 1 was more him grasping the opportunity of Thor doing something stupid and getting himself exiled and improvising successfully from there, than him actually pushing Thor to do the stupid thing and snitching to Odin just for his brother to be exiled. He snitched to protect Thor, himself, and their friends from being iced by the Jotuns, and if it ended up being in his favor, well, who was he to complain?

Loki gave the Midgardians around him a last look – idiotic lower beings, with only a very few of them able to even grasp what he represented, like Banner, Selvig, and probably Thor's lady friend; as for Natasha, she was another story altogether, if only because she had been mostly raised on Asgard, and by Loki's hand – as he felt the pull of the Other's summons.

He had to believe they wouldn't get themselves caught while he dealed with the Titan's servant – after all, while Midgard was a backwater place and thus the people he was manipulating to do what he needed them to do were hardly competent, it also meant the people supposed to stop him would be just as incompetent.

One instant later, Loki's eyes fell on the Other, who was coming to him with an unpleasant gloom – as the being didn't exactly have a visible face, it was more of a general impression than an actual facial expression.

“The Chitauri grow restless.”

Was the thing questioning his capability?

“They will not have to wait much longer, and then I will lead them into glorious battle.”

Something in Loki's mind whispered at him that he was still grasping at Asgard's way of thinking, at their need for battle acknowledgment, but he ignored it. After all, he wasn't questioning his belonging to Asgard, especially as he certainly didn't see himself as a Jotun, genetics be damned.

The Other sneered in contempt.

“Battle? Against the meager might of Earth?”

Loki refrained himself from defending the backwater place, especially since he didn't think there was anything to fear from Midgard, as long as the Chitauri weren't completely incompetent either.

The point was not to defend Midgard, but simply...

“Glorious, not lengthy. Midgardians are feeble and frail, and their knowledge of the universe is ridiculously incomplete, but they will defend themselves. They won't hold long, but they will try... That is, if your force is as formidable as you claim, of course.”

The Other's voice rose in anger.

“You question us? You question him? He, who put the scepter in your hand, who gave you ancient knowledge and new purpose when you were cast out, defeated?”

Loki caught sight of movement near the steps from where the being had arrived. Unwilling to stop his own answer to the thing, and to give away that he had noticed the newcomer, but at the same time wary of this new addition, the god of mischief tried to keep the figure in the corner of his eye. He didn't want to be caught unaware, especially as he didn't trust the Titan's people not to try and torture him – he remembered the first days after he had been found, after his fall into the Void, before the Titan had come to the conclusion that he could be useful. He hadn't been tortured, no, but he had been put in a cell where he had been able to see others being brought back, beaten and bloody – or some times, not coming back at all – to the jails.

Just to be sure he knew what to expect, he had guessed, shall he try anything untoward.

He had a point, though, and he wasn't going to let the Other insult him again.

“I was a king! The rightful king of Asgard! Betrayed!”

The look he got – from a mostly hidden face, at that – was so full of contempt and devoid of any belief that Loki's anger redoubled. It was like the being knew everything, like he was accusing him of lying, like he was reminding him that he had never been a rightful heir to Odin, that he had been the one doing the betrayal, that Thor had tried to catch him when he had fallen, and that Loki had gotten himself where he was by his own fault.

Truths that Loki's intellect couldn't let him ignore, but that his stubbornness and his tendency to play the innocent victim successfully locked away as lies.

Still, that was not what came out of the thing's mouth, and Loki was almost grateful for that, because he might not have been able to control himself and not kill the Other right there, right then otherwise – or at least, not to try.

Which didn't mean he appreciated the words for all that.

“Your ambition is little, born of childish need. We look beyond the Earth to greater worlds the Tesseract will unveil.”

Clenching his teeth, Loki forced himself to regain his composure, in order to get himself back in the game – back on top of the game. Let him remind the Other and the one they both served, that they relied on him to open the portal to Earth, that he wasn't simply a mindless tool like the Midgardians he had taken under his control.

“You don't have the Tesseract yet. I don't threaten, but until I open the doors, until your force is mine to command, you are but words.”

In the corner of his eye, he could see the unknown figure standing, unimpressed, but unwilling to intervene at the same time, not hiding herself nor making it obvious she was here.

Simply present – green skin, he noticed, and reddish dark hair; a sword in her hands, but not directed at him specifically. She was... watching them. Listening.

And apparently, the Other had no idea she was here, because he had failed to look in her direction even once after her arrival – well, he could have known, but he sure didn't look like he did as he finished his threat towards Loki.

“You will have your war, Asgardian. If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

As if Loki could fail when confronted with Midgard's finest. They weren't that bad, sure, but Loki was Loki, and more importantly, he was from a culture that surpassed Midgard's by millenia. His body alone was a greater weapon than a standard armed soldier from Midgard. He had magic, something none of them did. He was terribly clever, and knew more than they did.

Very few people on Midgard could even pretend getting in his way, and he had that covered too. Getting rid of Banner's beast wouldn't be too difficult, and just having them deal with that would occupy them afterward – he had thought, for a moment, about having the scientist create a few more Hulk-like beasts, just so that it'd keep SHIELD, and everyone else for the matter, busy, but Loki wasn't quite certain they wouldn't turn on him and hinder him instead.

Perhaps Thor would get in the way at some point, but Loki would obviously have had the time to do everything he wanted before that. By then, it would be to late for Thor to change the course of the battle.

After all, Midgard was just Midgard, and even those here who had the brains to do something about it just didn't have access to enough power to rival his own.

Everything would go perfectly well, a little planning was more than enough to deal with these primitive people, and Loki would have his deserved glory, finally.

The Chitauri were only a tool.

Just before the Other sent him back to Midgard, Loki caught sight of the woman – Zehoberei, most likely – frowning in distaste at the being, and possibly at him too, and for some reason that had him grow concerned...

One touch later, and Loki's conciousness was completely back on Midgard, telling himself that no matter what the woman's plans were, she was very, very far away, and unlikely to get in his way before a long time.

He failed to realize, of course, that just like he hadn't really been with the Other, back on the other end of the galaxy, it was entirely possible that the woman hadn't physically been there either.

Not that a lieutenant of the Titan would hinder his work for Thanos, anyway.

Focusing back on his own operation, Loki all but forgot about the stranger as his eyes fell on the woman whom he had first mind-controlled after his arrival through the Tesseract. She was currently supervising the various soldiers who were working for him, and he watched her carefully.

The element powering her suit of mechanical armor was something new, something he had never seen before, and he had a feeling – now that he had been near it for a time – that had she not been out of the armor, it would have protected her mind from the scepter.

It bothered him in a way he really didn't like, just like looking at the armor did. She had told him who had made it, and while the technology wasn't that great compared to the rest of the universe, it still was way ahead compared to the rest of Midgard's technology.

Still, it wasn't powerful enough to be a real threat – “yet” wouldn't leave his mind.

 


	9. Basically compromised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started a big drawing of Avengers: First Trial this week-end, and you can see some of it on my special fanfics twitter account.
> 
> https://twitter.com/EKernor
> 
> So far I've got the Iron Mercy done, as well as Thor and Miss Victory ( I decided she's gonna be Agent Victory by the end of this, btw )

Steve's right hand clenched on the bench of the quinjet as it started descending onto the Helicarrier, and he knew without even looking that it was going to leave a dent in the metal. He really would have liked to focus on the fact that he was finally going to see Peggy again, but there were just so many other things to worry about that even these particular news couldn't make him feel better.

Agent Phil Coulson gave him a sympathic look and tried to reassure him – Steve guessed that was the point, but honestly right now he couldn't really be reassured by anyone. Not even by Tony, who wasn't bothering for that very reason.

“I know that you're worried about your... reputation, Captain, but it's been years, and the SHIELD personnel on the Helicarrier has specifically be told to consider you an ally, in case some of them missed the memo about your... change of heart.”

Steve barely managed a shadow of a smile in response, painfully aware that the very fact Coulson had felt the need to say this sentence to him was very telling about what SHIELD thought of him – rightfully so, at that.

The soldier noticed Tony's eyes going up from his Starkphone for a moment, focusing on Steve himself, but his friend didn't say a word and just looked back down afterwards, a careful frown on his face. For all Steve knew – and what he could guess too – Tony had hacked into SHIELD's servers again and was going through the video feeds from the Tesseract facility. Then again, Steve still didnt understand what hacking actually was like, not even after living a decade next to Tony Stark, so perhaps that wasn't it.

Hadn't Tony said something about taking a crash course in thermo-nuclear physics, or something similar, yesterday? – if someone could learn something as complicated as that overnight, it was definitely Tony. The guy had preferences, of course, mainly in engineering, but if he actually tried, he could understand just anything. The only difference between his relationships with the various kind of sciences was that he had groundbreaking ideas more often in his own area of expertise.

Speaking of which, Steve had never seen that kind of boots in Tony's gear before. What were the odds that they weren't just normal boots? – a hint: after Afghanistan, Tony had made himself a whole new type of combat gear and had added retractable blades into the forearm armors; after Ivan Vanko, he had had the splendid idea of putting electroshocks powered by the arc reactor in his gloves, and Steve knew for a fact that he was working on some kind of arc reactor-powered special guns too, even if for now it hadn't come to fruition.

Tony had to work on the Iron Mercy armor too.

Speaking of which... Maria. Just another reason to worry. Maria was basically compromised, even if it wasn't her fault per se – and Steve could tell a lot about that – and she still had access to the armor, while Tony didn't, and wouldn't have access unless he could get in screwing-with-his-tech distance. This was going to be a problem, Steve was sure.

Just because, you know, missiles. And that was just one of the armor's features.

He had been so taken with his thoughts that Steve only noticed they had landed – helicarrier-ed? – when a gush of wind blew in his face. He looked up, and saw the quinjet had opened, and Coulson and Tony were waiting for him to get up and follow.

He briefly wondered about what the Helicarrier looked like when you were standing on it – he had seen pictures, but it just wasn't the same.

Then he saw the faces of the various people working on the Helicarrier as he got out of the quinjet, and the thought deserted his brain just before he could get an answer to that question.

These people were tense, they had stopped whatever they had been doing, and their eyes were glued to his arm. They were probably remembering the tales of the Winter soldier, the assassinations, the enemy – he stopped himself before he could actually wonder about who he had been working for all that time, because he was pretty sure it hadn't been the KGB, and the answers to that question had probably disappeared with the triggers.

Hell, for all Steve knew, some of the agents here had crossed path with him, and were alive to tell the tale themselves only because they hadn't been the target at the time, because they hadn't managed to stand in his way efficiently enough for him to have to kill them...

“Alright, that's enough.”

Steve startled as Tony clapped his hands, taking the attention off him – and damn, did the SHIELD agents and other employees just tensed a little bit more as their eyes fell on the one they had dubbed the Merchant of Death, back in 1989 when he had first caught the intelligence agency's eye.

Tony did a thing – don't be hard on Steve, he couldn't even see what Tony was doing from where he was standing, much less actually understand it – on his phone.

“If anyone tries to kill Cap over here, their bank accounts' loses a thousand dollars every ten seconds in between the attempt and the apology, because no, you won't manage it, and no, you don't want to know what happens if you do manage it, or if, God forbids, you try something on me instead.”

Tony put away the cellphone in its specially reinforced pocket – everything on Tony's suit was reinforced in a way or another, but not the point – and gave everyone a grin that looked somehow inoffensive, if definitely daring.

“Now I've heard we were to play nice in order to get the Tesseract back from a homicidal northern god, so, why don't we go do that instead of glaring daggers at each other?”

Coulson shook his head and directed them to the control room of the Helicarrier, while Steve whispered at Tony between his teeth:

“You do realize they can glare daggers at us even while working with us, right?”

The genius snorted, and opened his mouth to answer, but narrowed his eyes instead. Steve, alert, immediately followed the man's eyes, ready to take on anything, be it verbal or physical assault.

Well, anything... Maybe not that.

Definitely not that.

Peggy was standing at the other end of the corridor – Steve registered the blond man behind her, but he just wasn't as important as Peggy – looking just as shocked as Steve himself felt. Frozen, so to say, in her step, her eyes on him, and not a word making it past her lips.

Steve's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he thought he was having another asthma attack, even though that hadn't happened since the serum. He just couldn't breathe. He could also hear his own heartbeat, pounding against his sternum and the blood making a terrible ruckus at his temples. His injured hand was twitching a bit, as if the cybernetic prosthesis that was keeping it together was receiving contradictory orders from his brain – which was probably the case. 

For a moment he wondered if he was having hallucinations – but no, Agent Coulson had told him about finding Peggy, remember? And hallucinations were Tony's thing, not Steve. Steve just did good old PTSD dreams, not hallucinations, for which he was grateful, because he didn't want to know what kind of things he'd do in the middle of a PTSD attack with hallucinations.

Steve heard Tony say something next to him, something about going and saying hi rather than standing dumbly in the corridor, but he wasn't exactly paying attention, and...

Peggy eventually took a tentative step in his direction, and the movement just seemed to unleash... everything. Seeing her here, alive, moving in his direction...

Steve just kind of jumped the distance between them, looked her in the eyes for half a second – there was a moment of hesitation, of course, because he didn't know if she'd still want him, not after seventy years, not after what had happened in between, not if she had read reports about the Winter Soldier, and God help him if she didn't know, because he certainly couldn't bear the idea that she did, but kissing her while she didn't yet? That was probably worse.

That, and Steve had hardly ever been the one to initiate a kiss – the most he had ever done was a mutual initiative, ask Peggy.

...while Peggy obviously didn't have that problem, as she pushed herself on her toes – the serum had made her about one inch taller, but not nearly as much as Steve, because unlike him, her pre-serum state had been balanced to begin with – and her arms just took him in her embrace. Before he could react, Peggy was kissing him, and all rational thoughts just disappeared for the moment.

Steve suddenly felt at home, more than ever since Tony had brought his consciousness back, and that was probably the most incredible thing he had felt in years.

“Or I guess you two could snog each other to death, that works too.”

 


	10. Spy-sitting

A nameless – alright, he probably did have a name, only Fury didn't know it right now – SHIELD employee said they're were at lock, and Fury was finally happy that something, at least, was happening.

"Good. Let's vanish."

Then he turned around, trusting the SHIELD personnel to do their job and make sure the Helicarrier wouldn't crash or something – that was basically the only kind of trust he'd ever have in anyone, for them to do what they could do efficiently, because anything more personal or important would just hurt and probably get someone killed too – just in time to see Coulson, Barton and Stark walk inside the control room. Carter and Rogers weren't with them, and while Fury had an inkling of what was certainly happening between the two right now, he still felt he had to ask.

"Barton, have you perhaps lost our supersoldiers?"

The agent winced, and Stark answered in his stead, taking in the Helicarrier that he had participated in designing – weaponry aside.

"They're experimenting how long a supersoldier can hold their breath, Director."

Figured.

"Anyway, I heard you lost our glowy cube thingy? And the two lead scientists who could help finding it back?"

'And my loyal employee, who's not so loyal anymore but eitherway' went unsaid, but Fury knew enough about how people like Stark could not say everything they thought if it happened to be for the best – like, preventing the underlying tension from escalating.

Fury knew, because he was exactly one of these people when it came to compartmentalizing and keeping secrets, and because Stark was both a former – retired, but not less sharp than before – spy, no matter how much he denied it – a subject he didn't waste a lot of breath on, at that – and a member of the high society. And in both these circles, you just didn't trust people blindly.

"Loki seems to have some mean of mind-control, possibly thanks to his 'magical, glowy, ominous' staff, and we hoped you could help, Stark. After all, the Tesseract is also one of your science projects, isn't it?"

Stark winced at the mention of "magic", and Fury could totally understand the feeling. Tech, no matter how foreign, was something rational, but magic? Both Starks, Howard and Tony, kept on insisting that "magic" was probably another science too, just one that was so foreign they couldn't even start explaining it – no one, not even those who practiced it, seemed to be able to, but it wasn't like that mattered to the two stubborn geniuses – and they hated that.

Coulson took over, while keeping an eye on Barton, who was eyeing a screen where Banner's picture and the – lack of – information they had on the scientist's current location where displayed. Just in case the guy turned a bit green around the edges.

"We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet. Cellphones, laptops. If it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us."

Stark, of course, was already doing something else – instead of, you know, listening.

Or, at least, he pretended not to care and listen, but Fury had known Stark Senior long enough not to get fooled. The Starks simply seemed to jump from one conversation to another because they tended to think about ten different things at a time. Not all of which were relevant.

Going around Fury, the genius peered at the control panels, and in a move that Fury couldn't quite see from where he was, but that he could easily guess knowing the flippant billionaire, Stark covered one of his eyes.

"How do you even do this?"

The Director of SHIELD did not roll his eyes, but it was a close thing.

"I turn."

"Well, that sounds exhausting. About your global search for the Horny God, that's not going to be enough if he's planning to act soon. Searching for them by looks is good, but you're going to need a few more spectrometers to search for gamma rays. Like, all of them. In the whole world. I know you can get access, so, do this. Of course, it would be easier if we had the world's expert on the matter of gamma rays to do this for us, but since you lost him, I guess you'll have to do with little old me. Where's the super sciency lab around here?"

Fury tried to keep his eyes on Stark at all times, but as he only had one eye available, and Stark just kept moving around and doing seemingly unnecessary gestures, he doubted that would be enough. He'd better not forget to have someone check no "unnecessary" appliances had been added to the monitors while Stark had done his best to be infuriating.

Which, really, was ridiculous. If the man only asked, he'd get a place inside SHIELD in a blink, given his family name and his skill set, and despite his past – admittedly alleged – activities.

Which, of course, would ask of Stark to trust SHIELD more than even Fury himself was willing to, so yeah, the director understood why that particular thing wasn't going to happen.

"Agent Barton, would you show Mr. Stark to Dr. Banner's laboratory, please?"

Barton clenched his teeth, but nodded, and Fury suspected the archer wasn't exactly elated with baby-sitting Tony Stark, especially as the guy made a show of being flippant and generally dislikable on a personal level. Also, Fury had made sure that Barton knew who Stark was, what he was capable of, and why spy-sitting was to be a thing when it came to the guy, if they didn't want him to know absolutely everything about SHIELD as well as their personal lives within the next twelve hours.

They probably wouldn't be able to keep everything from the genius, but if Fury could keep the damage to a minimum, that'd be good enough.

"This way, Stark. And please, take this seriously."

The second sentence had been added with a certain emphasis, and Fury decided to wait and see how it was – not – going to blow up in all their faces before concentrating on something else. It wouldn't do to antagonize Stark any more than necessary, and Barton had reasons to 1) be wary of the former KBG agent 2) be generally on edge.

Stark stopped his act for a moment, and took in the blond agent with concealed prudence and – god help them – interest.

The key word being "concealed".

"Barton, right? You're the one with the bow and arrows. The one who occasionally turns into an enormous green rage monster."

Fury could literally hear Barton's teeth gritting against each other, but the man didn't take the bait. Not that he'd have gone completely green and destructive, because he had more control than that, and Banner had managed to secure – something he might not have succeeded in doing had he had to experiment on, say, himself, with all the complications that would come with such a situation – a semi-transformation for the Hulk – green, tall, strong, but not as strong and as tall as a full hulk-out, though just as green – that let Barton have control over himself.

That being said, a semi-hulk-out would still be more than enough to break Stark into two – should Barton manage to get a hand on the elusive billionaire, of course.

The agent gave the man standing in front of him a painful smile.

"That's me. But my point, Stark, was that this is a serious situation. A situation in which one of my friends is directly involved. In danger. And I'd appreciate if you didn't waste time being an asshole."

So much for Barton being polite – what had Fury been thinking? Of course Barton wouldn't be the one to do the polite thing, especially not with Stark in front of him, doing everything to get on everyone's nerves.

This, however, only seemed to amuse the genius, who smirked for an instant...

Until his face fell into a controlled blank.

"You speak as if you're the only one who has interests in this, Agent Barton. Flash news: you're not the only one with a friend in a compromising situation."

Barton didn't really know what to answer to that, obviously, so he could only follow in silence – or rather, catch up with Stark to then lead him to the lab – when the man added, feeling less than charitable:

"And for your information, I'm perfectly capable of being useful on top of being an asshole. It's not my fault if you, unlike me, aren't able to multitask quite as efficiently."

Fury really hoped no one would end up blowing up the Helicarrier out of frustration.

 

 

 


	11. Just and fair

Banner and Selvig discussed the Tesseract quietly, orientating the people who were now working for them – for Loki, more or less willingly, some enlightened by the scepter, some simply following orders, knowing that their lives were in the balance, and some, finally, there because it allowed them to fuck with SHIELD and that was always a good thing in their books, since it meant the agency would be busy when they tried something themselves. The two were minutes away from figuring out how to replicate the portal from this end of the galaxy, their heads filled with the knowledge the cube had granted them, with some help from Loki's scepter – Banner suspected there was more than a simple coincidence there, that the cube and the scepter had something in common, something that had allowed this miracle, but he was also pretty sure Loki wouldn't appreciate him asking, so he kept silent about it. As long as the mission didn't need it.

Loki wasn't, per se, inside the two scientists' minds. He didn't know what they were thinking, who was their most important person – useless knowledge, anyway, since the only answer that mattered here was the current one, and the current answer was the asgardian god – or what they had eaten for breakfast. They would tell him just that, of course, and without lying, if he asked, or if it became relevant to the mission. But as long as it didn't matter, he didn't know.

Which meant that both Selvig and Banner were relatively safe in this story, them and their respective life – though Loki had asked about Foster, but Selvig hadn't been able to tell him where she was now, because he didn't know where SHIELD would have sent her.

Hill's life, on the other hand, was quite at risk here. Two of her best friends and former allies were people of great interest to SHIELD, people that had certainly been called in by now – not that Loki was worried about them, but he liked to know who could be even a small danger to his plan. The consequences of her current lack of control on her own mind could potentially be catastrophic.

Not that she cared, right now, since the scepter had done its job perfectly well.

Loki was all that mattered. His cause was just and fair. His goal was her mission.

She didn't care about Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. She didn't care about what happened to humanity. She didn't care about what would be crushed in the wake of the mission.

She did care that Stark could probably find a way to lock her out of the armor if she let him have his way when their paths would cross again – it was bound to happen and she wasn't going to pretend otherwise – because that would be a throwback for the mission, and she couldn't allow that to happen.

Unfortunately her technological skills stopped at mild hacking, and you had to be much better than a small-time hacker to get into Stark's systems, especially when it concerned the Iron Mercy. Which meant that she had to think about how to take out her former boss if it came to that, and if Loki didn't get the opportunity to convert him beforehand – having Stark working for them would definitely be interesting, especially as he wouldn't be held back by his foolish decision never to make weapons again.

Hill was taken out of her homicidal musings by Selvig, who was squinting at a bunch of mercenaries as they moved an unexplained device.

"Where did you find all these people?"

The woman shrugged evasively – there had to be a way to take advantage of Stark's persistent hallucinations, she knew that, but she couldn't quite see how yet and it was infuriating.

"My boss used to be a weapon manufacturer, doctor, and I spent a few years working in the intelligence community before attaching myself to him. I know where to look, whom to ask, and how to ensure their cooperation. Now, didn't you say something about having found what was lacking from your previous experiments?"

Banner, who had been keeping an eye on the mercenaries to make sure they weren't breaking anything while Selvig was busy talking with her, handed over a tablet with what looked like a mineral and its information displayed.

"We're going to need iridium, and let me tell you right away, you don't just buy some at the neighborhood grocery store. The only place to get it is inside a meteorite. There's not much of it on the planet, and it literally costs an arm."

Hill made a face, and started investigating where exactly she could find iridium. With some luck, a rich guy or another somewhere would have taken a fancy to it, just because it was rare and not exactly affordable, and would have told that to everyone.

Or, she guessed, they'd have to raid another heavily defended scientific facility to get it.

"Please tell me SHIELD doesn't know about it."

If SHIELD did know what they were after this time, it would make everything just so much more difficult. Stealing iridium to get the portal to work wasn't something she wanted to make into a show, if only because it might give SHIELD more hints as to what was actually going on.

Selvig snorted, and went back to his calculations.

"Well, I definitely didn't know, so I doubt they do."

Taking that into account, and locking the scientists' talk out of her thoughts, Hill went back to planning the appropriation of an usable quantity of iridium. There had to be a place where...

Ah. Of course.

The supermarket for anything rare, expensive, and totally-not-for-sale in the scientist community. She'd know, Stark had a tendency to keep an eye on the materials they got over there, and the things they managed to do with those, in case it'd become useful to him.

She wondered for a moment if Stark, of all people, didn't have some iridium stashed somewhere, but as she wasn't positive about it – it was possible, but also far from certain – and Stark had surely been informed of her change of heart by now, the efforts would be far too important and dangerous, compared to the hypothetical gains. So, no. The not-a-supermarket it was.

Busy as Stark had to be right now, Hill was almost convinced he hadn't found – or, really, taken – the time to clear his blood. The hallucinations would start soon. And when the hallucinations started, Stark grew steadily more aggressive, dangerous, and unhinged. Which was great when it was about keeping him on edge, but not when it was about getting on his nerves. The genius might fail to notice something that would otherwise have been obvious to him – not to anyone else, but not all of them were geniuses, so – because of the hallucinations, but he would also be much more feral in a fight.

Hill had the armor with her, true. It was strong, fast, dangerous, lethal, and very well protected.

Didn't mean she wanted to face Stark when he was out for blood, and mostly unable to tell apart what was actual blood and what only existed in his mind. What was a product of his fists and what was a product of his mind.

Because if he managed to disable the Iron Mercy – and that was a genuine possibility if Hill wasn't careful enough – then she'd be just another skilled fighter, and he would be able to make her bleed.

Without being able to tell when to stop.

Which basically meant Hill couldn't even count on his sympathy during a fight – not that she'd have any for Stark, but from his point of view things were surely different.

So yes, if she wanted to make use of Stark's weaknesses, she'd have to play it cautiously.

Loki had asked questions about the arc reactor in her armor, and Banner, who had some ideas about it even if he didn't know how it worked exactly – patents – had explained that Howard Stark had first had the idea while working on the Tesseract, an information that had had the god raise his eyebrows, as if it explained many things. Anyway, the ensuing decision of the Asgardian had been to use the arc reactor in Manhattan, in Stark Tower, to strengthen the energy flow – or something, Hill still wasn't a scientist, unlike other people here.

The woman suspected it was also because Stark Tower would make a great stage for Loki, but hey, she wasn't going to deny him his moment of glory. All hail Loki, and all that.

Another reason to take Stark out before he could cause problems, though.

Hill pursed her lips. It seemed that, on her part, everything always came back to this, in the end. She had to make sure that Stark wouldn't get in the way, because the man was dangerous and unpredictable, and he wouldn't take kindly to having Loki try and invade his turf.

Well, that and organizing the theft of an usable quantity of iridium.

Her eyes found the name of the man who would make that possible, and she smirked.

"You said iridium costs an arm, doctor, but I'm going to venture it's more of a matter of an eye."

 


	12. In working order

Steve kept his arms around Peggy, his embrace strong ans soft at the same time, as if he was worried she'd evaporate the moment he let go of her.

A feeling Peggy could more or less understand, considering she still wasn't sure he was actually here, with her – she remembered him, falling down the train, just after having pulled Barnes back, a stunned look on his face, she imagined how he had probably been conscious when his body had crashed against the rocks that had likely been the cause of his torn arm, how the serum had kept him alive against all odds, how it hadn't been enough to entirely heal the shredded flesh...

Her eyes fell upon the prosthesis, and an unpleasant feeling twisted her guts. How could they be certain that, given the appropriate treatment, the serum wouldn't have been able to reconstruct Steve's arm? It would have taken some time, sure, but would it have been possible? Would...

She reached out, and her fingers slid onto the metallic exoskeleton that encompassed Steve's right forearm, as well as most of his hand. It was dark grey, smooth, cold, and likely embedded inside his skin, considering how it didn't protrude much from Steve's flesh.

“What are you thinking?”

Peggy looked up, almost guiltily, and met Steve's eyes. He had a small, amused smile on his face, as if he didn't really care about the arm itself – he didn't, she realized, because Steve was used to having a body that wasn't the epitome of health and normality – and much more about what the arm had been used to do.

About what Steve had been made to do.

Peggy clenched her jaws at the thought, but immediately stopped it when she noticed how Steve tensed back at her. Oh God, he was reacting to her anger at the people who had done that to him – she had read Steve's file, again and again, with a strange sort of guilt at invading the little that was left of his privacy – and understanding it as disgust – disgust towards the arm, towards him, towards what he had become while she had been asleep, as if it was his fault, as if she thought he had asked for it to happen.

As if he was to be blamed.

He wasn't. Peggy knew that. Steve knew that too. But he needed to know that she knew, that she understood.

Except she didn't, not really, not entirely. She had been asleep in the ice all that time, she had no idea what the world was really like now, what was possible and what wasn't – oh, she had read the files, she had watched the television, but it wasn't the same as knowing, not really.

And, more importantly, what had happened to Steve hadn't happened to her. She couldn't pretend she understood all of it. Pretending would be a lie, and what Steve needed right now wasn't a lie.

What he needed was knowing that no matter how fucked up he was, she was willing to try and help.

Peggy took a deep breath, and refrained from looking back at the arm. It would be better if she kept looking Steve in the eyes as she'd talk.

“Just that... Your prosthesis. Had the people who did this to you not put it there, had they just taken care of it like a normal wound, do you think it would have healed correctly? Do... Steve, do you think you'd need the prosthesis at all?”

He didn't answer right away, but his eyes never left hers. He was... looking for something in her eyes, she realized, as if to judge whether or not he was going to answer truthfully.

The realization hurt, in a very familiar way. The Steve Peggy had known during the war wouldn't have felt the need to be dishonest, not even to protect himself. Oh, of course, Steve used to lie back then too – his will to enlist had pushed him to try again and again, under different names, after all – but he had never been very good at it, and it had never been to protect himself.

Peggy wasn't sure Steve would lie, anyway, because he had always been, and probably would always be a very honest person who lied only when he thought the reason for the lie mattered more than his honesty, but the fact that he even considered it?

It was telling.

Peggy wasn't sure what to make of that information. She wasn't sure how to deal with the person Steve had become. She wasn't sure she'd be able to tell him apart from the man he used to be.

But she sure as hell was going to try and get to know him again.

Eventually Steve raised his arm, beckoning her to look at it again, more closely.

The exoskeleton wasn't all there was to the prosthesis, if it could even be called that. The arm underneath was relatively complete, and visible. There were a few spots where the metal was uncharasteristically more present, and Peggy guessed that was where the flesh had been too shredded to salvage.

But more than the exoskeleton, it was probably the neon green and dark red inside the flesh that made it look really eery. The colors were faint, barely visible – but yes, still visible – under the skin, where, Peggy could guess, Steve's nerves should have been. His blood vessels, too.

“I don't remember much of the time directly after the fall. I stayed awake for almost two days, in the snow, and then I was unconscious. The next thing I remember is waking up in the middle of the operation, with german scientists operating on my arm, and me being so drugged as well as strapped to the table that I couldn't even move. They were saying things I didn't understand, pulling my arm apart, but it was nothing compared to the existing damage from the fall. Because I remembered the two days, and I remembered looking at my bones protruding out of what was left of my flesh, Peggy, and I remember being sure nothing could be done about that.”

Steve's voice never wavered, and he delivered the facts as if he was talking about the weather, but that in itself was suspicious. That was the tone of a man who had had time to grow used to the memory, but it didn't mean he was alright with it.

Peggy's hand searched for Steve's and only hesitated a moment when she realized it was the one with the prosthesis. It was cold, yes, but she could grow used to that, surely.

She squeezed his hand, hoping that would be enough.

“I... They didn't exactly bother explaining what they were doing, you know, and even if they had, back then I wouldn't have understood a thing, I guess. My german wasn't exactly what it is now.”

Steve said that as if he had been part of an exchange program, not as if he had been brainwashed and forced to learn a few other languages – primarily russian, from what the files said, but he also knew german, cantonese and spanish now.

“Anyway. When Tony got me out, he took a look at my arm, with the help of a young but renowned surgeon, who goes by Stephen Weird or something like that. From what they could tell after the fact, the damage from the fall had been... extensive. The arteries had barely not been nicked, and almost all the smaller vessels were compromised in a way or another. The only reason I didn't bleed out right there right then was because of the serum, which made the more prominent wounds heal just enough to hold the blood in. But the arm itself was almost certainly a mess, by the time they, whoever they were, got to me.”

“You're saying you arm wouldn't have healed anyway?”

Steve winced, and shook his head.

“No, it's not like that... Peggy, listen: you've survived seventy years in the ice thanks to the serum. We just don't know what it's capable of. What I'm saying is that it shouldn't have healed. That they couldn't know it would, and actually, we still don't know if it would have. So they... rebuilt it. At least, they rebuilt the base. Green wires for the nerves, and they also replaced the blood vessels that weren't likely to make it. And they added the exoskeleton to make sure the arm wouldn't fall apart until it was completely in working order... or, forever, since they couldn't know it'd ever be in working order again.”

“So they did what they could, barring amputation. Alright, I can deal with that. But, Steve, I can tell you're not telling me everything. There's a 'but' here, and we both know it.”

Steve almost looked like he was about to deny it, just on principle, but it seemed like he had already made his mind about telling her, and changing it now would be more petty than anything else.

He smiled, but it wasn't really a smile.

“Of course there's a 'but'. You saw how my arm is now; that is, healed.”

Peggy nodded, because it was obvious that the lack of scars just didn't go with the story.

“Well. As they were digging into what was left of my arm, they soon noticed it was already healing. That the flesh was growing back, slowly but surely, upon the wires. That it might not be necessary to... And despite that, they didn't stop.”

 


End file.
